Going to the very heart of Zen.

July 31, 2011

Many of us who became enamored with Zen during the 1960s read Alan Watts. My teacher had me read Watt’s first book, The Spirit of Zen, which was published when he was only twenty-one (he wrote the preface to the first edition when he was only twenty). I could follow Watts somewhat but for me his book never seemed to crystalize the more rudimentary content of Zen (this crystallization was to come much, much later).

Understandably, at the time, Watts was little more than a struggling student of Zen like many of us were. Much of the spirit of Zen that went into The Spirit of Zen came from D.T. Suzuki who was a Rinzai Zennist. Suzuki, incidentally, didn’t care that much for Dogen Zenji and for that matter, Soto Zen. He saw Dogen’s “just sitting,” in a nutshell, as being altogether quietist and a form of mental stasis. (Having done a fair amount of “just sitting” I agree with D.T. Suzuki, in fact, without direct, intuitive entry into pure Mind there is no Zen and for that matter, no Buddhism).

Later, all this became ironic for me given the fact that my first teacher of Zen was an abbot from the Soto tradition who had studied with Hodo Tobase and after his tenure with Tobase, was subsequently made an abbot by Takashina Rosen, primate of Sotoshu. What I had been introduced to in the way of Zen had been institutionalized for want of a better term. Putting it more bluntly, there was hardly a jot of spirituality in institutionalized Zen. Certainly no spirit.

The Zen I had become witness to seemed to demand a closed, obedient mind which I was not used to. This was not the spirit of Zen. To quote Watts, “A proper exposition of Zen should ‘tease us out of thought’, and leave the mind like an open window instead of a panel of stained glass” or better yet, a closed shoji screen. At the time, I was beginning to learn just how important a mind that was open was. There is no real Zen without it. Later, as I searched for pure Mind and came to realize the true spirit of Zen I have Watts and D.T. Suzuki to thank for helping me to keep an open mind about Zen.

July 28, 2011

When as a Zen monk Stephen Batchelor was instructed by Korean Zen master Kusan Sunim to intuit the transcendent Mind by means of the koan, “What is this” Mr. Batchelor rebelled. He refused to do it on rather stupid grounds. His reaction, I have come to believe, is not an atypical reaction of a Western Buddhist. Western Buddhists I have met over the years really don’t get Buddhism and for that matter, they really don’t get Zen, especially Zen taught in China and Korea. They much prefer their Buddhism to be this-worldly, self-help oriented, with a lot of Christian do-goodism thrown in for good measure.

To be frank, Western Buddhists who suffer, like Stephen Batchelor, from a fear of pursuing the transcendent shouldn’t be in Buddhism. They need to quit until they can accept the fact that to make any real progress in Buddhism, they first have to intuit pure Mind which transcends the psychophysical person. Following Western Buddhism of this-worldliness, self-help, and do-goodism is not Buddhism. It is pretend Buddhism—not the real deal.

Admittedly, an intuition of pure Mind doesn’t come easy. It may take twenty-years to accomplish. But who ever said Buddhism was easy? It isn’t. But it is not boring, either, going around in circles getting nowhere which is often the case in a modern Western Dharma center.

What is so astonishing is that we need not go around in circles. The root of the problem is that as we engage with our mental life, including our thoughts and emotions, that which is continually facing them can’t identify itself in this profusion of changing forms. It needs to be properly instructed as to the correct method to behold itself which is what Buddhism is really about; especially Zen. But many Westerners who which to study Buddhism stop short of this in the example of Stephen Batchelor. They don’t wish to look for their true nature or the same, the transcendent Mind.

July 27, 2011

Hope, including faith and belief, often act as an antidote for all that is negative (no thanks to our human cortex) so that we are able to push back all the gloom and doom that bombards our brains on a daily basis.

Where the glimmering lights of hope shine in this darkness, we come to see that we are not without solutions for almost every kind of problem facing us; nor are we absent a spiritual path that works, in the example of Buddhism (believe me, Buddhism works as advertised!).

But then blow the winds of skepticism. Soon the small lights of hope begin to flicker; then they start going out one by one.

The skeptic hates any kind of data or new possibilities which threatens to overturn his pet opinions. A skeptic is often very, very conservative. He doesn’t like change or thinking out of the box. In fact, the skeptic will do almost anything to make sure that the data he disagrees with will never see the light of day.

When the great scientist Lord Kelvin, who formulated the first and second Laws of Thermodynamics, said that “heavier-than-air flying machines are impossible,” and “radio has no future,” and “X-rays will prove a hoax,” he was being a skeptic making a judgement in advance of the facts, essentially, lying through his teeth since he had no actual way of knowing that flying machines were impossible, etc. He was a wind bag trying to blow out the small lights of hope for a better future.

Skeptics like Lord Kelvin are skeptics for many reasons. One of their traits is that they are extremely vain and can’t imagine any idea superior to their own. They have no problem with developing a closed mind. It is only after they permit themselves to have an open mind do they give up their close mindedness. (There is a rather humorous story told by Nikola Tesla which relates to the great Lord Kelivn’s skepticism of Tesla’s major work which had to do with non-Hertzian waves and their transmission through the earth. Eventually, Lord Kelvin came around to Tesla’s theory and became one of Tesla’s warmest supporters.)

Buddhism has it skeptics, too. Ironically, they are often Buddhists. They don’t believe, for example, the canon of Buddhism contains anything the Buddha ever said. They don’t believe the Buddha’s awakening was such a big deal. His awakening is basically just about helping people, nothing more. These same skeptics have never read much of the Pali canon or the Mahayana canon—let alone handle the recondite notions contained therein. Nor do these skeptics read scholarly works on the Buddhist canon. They can’t meditate either, except to sit mindlessly on their arses confusing ritual with contemplation.

In a way, the Buddhist skeptic is like the proverbial ‘dog in the manger’ from Aesop’s Fables who occupied a cattle manger full of hay. When the cattle wanted to eat the hay the wicked dog barred their way, snapping and barking at them. Likewise, the Buddhist skeptic doesn’t want devoted Buddhists to study the Dharma which the skeptic certainly refuses to study. He wants devoted Buddhists to lose any hope they may have in the Buddha’s true teaching substituting an ersatz teaching of fatalism or the same, lite nihilism.

July 26, 2011

When it comes to learning Buddhism there are many interesting and novel ways for someone to believe they are practicing Buddhism without ever being familiar with the underlying principles contained in the Buddhist canon, not caring to read or study much of it.

One clever means of avoidance is to just sit in meditation. Just believe that enlightenment will take care of itself if you sit on your zafu long enough. You can also join a Zen center and play follow the leader. Practice being the best of the obedient Zennies at the center. If you are a teacher teaching to beginners at a Zen center, or writing a book especially for beginners, why bother with studying what the Buddha actually taught? Beginners are not interested in learning this heady stuff anyway. Okay, enough of this.

Looking back at my own life when I first began my study of Zen, I think I spent more time making my robe and doing other things at the temple than being familiar with the underlying principles of Buddhism. For a while I was happy with the superficial stuff. So was my teacher who seemed to enjoy the duties of an abbot which had nothing to do with real Buddhism. But if you have a heaven soaring spirit, life in a birdcage soon gets old.

Nosing through the books in our small temple library it didn’t take me too long to figure out that my teacher was a dufus when it came to really grasping what the Buddha taught. Not once did he stress the importance of seeing pure Mind or having Bodhicitta or entering the stream.

Eventually, I left this dump (among other things, I found out that my teacher was gay; who didn’t have much respect for my own sexual preferences). Good fortune found me elsewhere where I eventually had my first Zen epiphany! I realized, with the help of a great Nichiren Bishop that I need to look for the pure essence of my mind. Which I did.

More and more I turned to the Buddhist canon, and more an more it began to make sense. Many times I was overwhelmed by just how subtle the teaching was. I became more and more humble as a result. I mean I had no choice in the matter. The Buddha was a freaking spiritual genius.

Eventually, I thought about Buddhism almost day and night. I was addicted to it. I couldn’t wait for another spiritual adventure. Needless to say, I had spiritual adventures. I knew for a fact that Buddhism was one kick-ass religion; deep and profound like no other.

If, at times, I get pissed off at the current state of Buddhism and Zen it is for a very good reason. It is not really going anywhere. At times, I think modern Buddhism has either been cleverly designed to avoid learning what the Buddha actually taught or many modern Buddhist are spiritual morons. Looking at today's Buddhism, which seems to be heading towards secularism, certainly counts as one of the more novel ways to believe that you are practicing Buddhism when, in fact, you helping to turn it into something it is not. What might help is to have better Buddhist writers, ones who have actually studied the canon enough to know the path of Buddhism is a transcendent one.

July 25, 2011

For anyone who has been to an event where the Dalai Lama is the main speaker, just looking around at the audience, it soon becomes obvious that he draws people from all religions, including even atheists. Young and old, it doesn’t matter. So what is going on?

My hunch is that Tibetan Buddhism has come to represent spirituality, not religion. The modern world is starting to become keenly interested in spirituality. By comparison, it understands religion to be inadequate which its sees as being often too creedal (= I believe), sectarian (e.g., fundamentalism), dogmatic and superficial. This is not so with spirituality which asks us to look within, for example, by first being aware of our internal dialogue.

If spirituality can be represented by just a few words they are look within. But this looking within is not about finding silence within us or coming to know God. Far from it. This looking is about what is most primordial in us trying to recognize itself and in so doing awaken to the basis or substance of all phenomena which then renders phenomena to be illusory and unreal so that we are no longer bewitched by it. Short of this, we doom ourselves to wander (samsara) passing from one false existence to another having believed this was truth or the best of all possible worlds.

For those who are somewhat familiar with Tibetan Buddhism its higher teachings are certainly spiritual but to get to a point where one can proficiently look within the individual has to be gradually weaned off of religion the practice of which can easily become perfunctory and ritualistic. The weaning process is by no means an easy one. While there are many people who yearn to practice a genuine spiritual path there are perhaps many more who are content with the perfunctory and the ritualistic as in the example of Soto Zen’s just sitting which is a function of ritual (J., gyoji).

July 24, 2011

Buddhism has its own version of the ass's bridge (L., pons asinorum). The term 'ass's bridge', to refresh the reader's memory, is about the fifth proposition of the first book of Euclid, namely, "The angles at the base of an isosceles triangle are equal to one another." Believe it or not, some students of geometry didn't understand this and so, couldn't cross the bridge having to remain asses, as far as geometry was concerned.

In Buddhism, the ass's bridge is the failure to understand that when the Buddha is referring to the Five Aggregates of form, feeling, perception, volitions, and consciousness, saying of each one, "This is not my self" his words are not meant to be taken as a denial of self or atman. Far from it. The Buddha is simply denying that his self is psychophysical, i.e., the Five Aggregates.

In Buddhism—the old cannon—there are three ways the idea of self is used. First, there is the view that the self is one of the Five Aggregates which then makes an aggregate eternal—an atman, in other words. This is eternalism which the Buddha didn’t buy. The second way self is used is that there is no self or in Pali, nattha attâ. This is annihilationism (nattha attâ is not to be confused with anattâ—the two expressions are quite different). The Buddha was dead-set against the annihilationist view like the view of eternalism. The third, and correct use of self is that we regard each of the Five Aggregates this way: “This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self (netam mama, neso'hamasmi, na me so atta).

The third use of self is obviously Buddhism’s version of the via negativa. The reason for this particular use of self is explained by George Grimm.

“What I am not, can be determined with certainty, at all events; but a positive answer to the question as to what I am, may easily raise doubts as to whether I actually am that wherein the answer asserts my essence to consist, as is amply proved by our divers philosophical systems. Therefore it must, from the outset, inspire us with confidence in the Buddha that he prefers the safer indirect way.” (The Doctrine of the Buddha (1926), p. 120).

Presently, it seems to me that many Western Buddhists are unable to cross the ass’s bridge, that is, grasp the simple methodology of the via negativa in Buddhism that I am not this psychophysical apparatus which, I hasten to add, implicitly affirms the self. What appears to add to the confusion and the impossibility of crossing the ass’s bridge is Western materialism with its hatred of the transcendent. The Buddhist materialist cannot see beyond the armature of the psychophysical apparatus, that is, the Five Aggregates which, incidentally, belong to the Buddhist devil, Mara.

July 21, 2011

Worldlings (including secular Buddhists), i.e., prithagjanas, often mistake the Buddha’s condemnation of eternalism with a categorical denial of self or atman (P., attâ). But eternalism is quite a different species from the Buddha’s notion of self which he tirelessly points out transcends the Five Aggregate domain of form, feeling, perception, volitional formations, and sensory consciousness.

When the Buddha addresses the subject of eternalism we often see the keynote phrase, “the self and the world are eternal" (sassato attâ ca loko ca). We are to understand that the eternalist takes some particular aggregate among the Five Aggregates (skandhas, khandhas), for example, form, to be the self and the world. This he believes to be “eternal, permanent.” In a nutshell, the eternalist firmly believes the Five Aggregates, in some way, are eternal and permanent—the self equals the aggregates (skandhas). (The source I am using for this is from Peter Masefield’s translation of The Udana Commentary starting on page 882. The commentary gives a clear, exegetical picture of what eternalism is which I have been following thus far.)

A careful consideration of the Nikayas show that the Buddha never once equated his self with any aggregate. Referring to each aggregate, the common refrain throughout the Nikayas is: this is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self. From this we must understand that the Buddha, while teaching through the Five Aggregate apparatus, was not of them. Said again, the Buddha’s self transcended the aggregate sphere.

Trying to convey this to his followers was not easy for even a Buddha. Many of the Buddha’s followers adhered to some aggregate-determinton of self without being aware of it. This is what the Buddha also meant by a theory or view of self. It is based on the belief that the self is aggregated (skandha). Using the illustration from the Alagaddupama Sutta (M. i. 141) the problem with such a view is like someone who believes “twings, branches and foliage in this Jeta Grove” are the self so that when these twigs, branches and foliage are burned up he is no more. This is clearly a case of misidentification; a wrong view of self insofar as the self is never aggregated or determinate. It transcends the nets of the Five Aggregates. Later on, in Mahayana Buddhism we come to find a broad expansion of the idea of the transcendent Self in the Mahaparinirvana Sutra.

“Kasyapa said to the Buddha: “O World-Honoured One! Is there Self in the 25 existences or not?” The Buddha said: “O good man! “Self” means “Tathagatagarbha” [Buddha-Womb, Buddha-Embryo, Buddha-Nature]. Every being has Buddha-Nature. This is the Self. Such Self has, from the very beginning, been under cover of innumerable defilements. That is why man cannot see it” (trans. Yamamoto).

July 20, 2011

At least in Mahayana Buddhism there is nothing between its covers to suggest that absolute substance or tathata (sometimes translated as “suchness”) shares its throne with phenomena; that somehow a phenomenalization or configuration of tathata is just as important as tathata, itself. (This holds true for pure Mind as well which is interchangeable with tathata.)

Dethroning phenomena might be rejected by those bound down to phenomena who have failed to catch a glimpse of tathata or pure Mind to know otherwise. However, in an argument they might be forced to concede that there is at least a spiritual distinction to be drawn between tathata and its configurations, the latter being thoroughly empty (shunya). This is what Nagarjuna and those of his era tried to do, that is, show those who cannot let go of phenomena, that they really have no sound basis for their arguments that can justify phenomena-clinging. Their world is a fiction as are their ideas of causation, etc.

This sort of gets turned around sometime later when Buddhist scholars, especially in Japan, assert that phenomena are the Buddha-nature or the same, illusory, mundane existence is the Buddha-nature. Dogen, for example, goes so far as to declare, "Seeing the Buddha-nature is seeing a donkey's jowls or a horse's mouth." Such an idea, however, is nowhere to be found in the Buddhist canon. It is a mistaken interpretation, one that no Indian Buddhist like Nagarjuna would ever make. Such a mistake leads to duality. The grasper of illusory existence creates duality by his blindness and ignorance of the true nature of reality: the way things really, really are.

From the perspective of tathata, there is no thing like a donkey or a horse— certainly not their jowls or mouth! In truth, nothing exists except absolute reality. But this is almost impossible to actually realize for the average person or Buddhist worldling/prithagjana. Yes, if they wish they can give it lip service or hold this idea to be dear. But this is almost like hoping to cross to the other shore while forgetting to enter the ship bound for it.

At least in Mahayana Buddhism there is nothing between its covers to suggest that absolute substance or tathata (sometimes translated as “suchness”) shares its throne with phenomena; that somehow a phenomenalization or configuration of tathata is just as important as tathata, itself. (This holds true for pure Mind as well which is interchangeable with tathata.)

Dethroning phenomena might be rejected by those bound down to phenomena who have failed to catch a glimpse of tathata or pure Mind to know otherwise. However, in an argument they might be forced to concede that there is at least a spiritual distinction to be drawn between tathata and its configurations, the latter being thoroughly empty (shunya). This is what Nagarjuna and those of his era tried to do, that is, show those who cannot let go of phenomena, that they really have no sound basis for their arguments that can justify phenomena-clinging. Their world is a fiction as are their ideas of causation, etc.

This sort of gets turned around sometime later when Buddhist scholars, especially in Japan, assert that phenomena are the Buddha-nature or the same, illusory, mundane existence is the Buddha-nature. Dogen, for example, goes so far as to declare, "Seeing the Buddha-nature is seeing a donkey's jowls or a horse's mouth." Such an idea, however, is nowhere to be found in the Buddhist canon. It is a mistaken interpretation, one that no Indian Buddhist like Nagarjuna would ever make. Such a mistake leads to duality. The grasper of illusory existence creates duality by his blindness and ignorance of the true nature of reality: the way things really, really are.

From the perspective of tathata, there is no thing like a donkey or a horse— certainly not their jowls or mouth! In truth, nothing exists except absolute reality. But this is almost impossible to actually realize for the average person or Buddhist worldling/prithagjana. Yes, if they wish they can give it lip service or hold this idea to be dear. But this is almost like hoping to cross to the other shore while forgetting to enter the ship bound for it.

July 19, 2011

Anutpattika-dharma-ksanti, that is, the acceptance that inevitably all phenomena are illusory and nonexistent, is realized by the Bodhisattva in the eighth bhumi (acalâ, i.e., immovability) being completed at the stage of Buddhahood according to some accounts (cp. Yogacarabhumi Shastra).

What D.T. Suzuki brings to this particular subject from the Dasabhumika (Studies in the Lankavatara Sutra, p. 227) proves to be spiritually helpful.

“he is then completely emancipated from such individualising ideas as are created by the mind (citta) and its agent (manovijñâna); he is then as detached as the sky, and descends upon all objects as if upon an empty space; he is then said to have attained to the acceptance of all things as unborn (anutpattika-dharma-ksanti).”

This means that our phenomenal world we believe to be real is a grand illusion. It doesn’t actually exist in the way we imagine. Whatever is happening in it is not happening sub specie aeternitatis. This, however, should not lead us to declare that there is absolutely nothing ultimately real. Only the fundamental reality or substance from which appearance is made is non-illusory and real. Its phenomenalizations only serve us heuristically if we choose to use them correctly.

The Bodhisattva who enters and perfects the eighth bhumi and eventually Buddhahood fully realizes this ksanti. It is as plain as the nose on his face. Things are only configurations or oscillations of pure Mind—nothing beyond this. Thus the Bodhisattva rejects the unique particularity of things and names.

At this stage, according to the Prajnaparamaita Shastra the Bodhisattva abandons his last physical body obtaining the dharma-kaya (Ramanan, Nagarjuna’s Philosophy, p. 307). We might say at this point that the Bodhisattva even accepts the inevitable fact that his own corporeal body is non-existent where now there is only the dharmakaya which is the Buddha’s true body.

While the Bodhisattva’s corporeal body still exists for the sake of sentient beings trapped in samsara to help them cross to the other shore, there is truly nothing they can observe helping them to achieve this crossing. Yet, I would be amiss to leave it at this. The Bodhisattva, because he or she is no longer limited by the physical as before, having attained anutpattikadharmaksanti, they can now affect the minds of others orienting them silently to true dharma. In this regard, the minds of ordinary beings are helped by great Bodhisattvas and Buddhas although, at times, these beings might believe otherwise in their darkest hour.